When at last the train dropped over the snowy crest of the Sierras and plunged down, down past clear mountain lakes, forest fringed, down, down into the richest land of all, Roger felt as if something had hardened and shaped to new purpose within him. Nothing in all the world mattered but to help; to slave too, and die trying to even the chances a little. When the ferry docked and the hills of the city rose misty in the salt fog creeping across their tops, Roger felt older and full of a stronger faith than he had ever had.
And he wanted Anne and Rogie. They were so small and helpless and the world was so cruel. He had been impatient lately with Anne, but he did not feel now that he would ever be impatient again. He wanted them and the quiet little house on the hill.
Half an hour later he rang the Mitchell bell and Anne peered from the dim light above.
"It's me," he called gayly and went up the stairs three at a time. But before he could take Anne in his arms or kiss her, a warning gesture motioned him to quiet.
"Papa's only just gotten to sleep and if he wakes now he'll get all fussed up and nervous. It's been a bad day."
She tiptoed past the partly open door of the sick room and Roger felt the darkness within reach through and chill his eagerness. He had not telegraphed purposely to take Anne unawares. He had pictured holding her in his arms and kissing away the memory of their last meeting in a new effort at nearness and understanding. Anne led the way to the kitchen and closed the door noiselessly. The gas was not lit and through the open back door the fog was stealing swiftly from the hills. A silent tidal wave, it was sweeping directly upon himself and Anne standing together in the dim dusk. In a moment it would break over the thick, black silence of the house and engulf them in its chill.
"Why didn't you let me know, Roger? I hadn't the least idea."
What would have been her greeting if he had? Perhaps a wire to tell him to be sure and come up the back stairs.
"I wasn't positive I could make it. Such a lot of delays turned up. I expected once to be here last week. How's Rogie? I suppose he's asleep."
"For hours. Shall I wake him?"